


Change of Fortune

by JollyCat



Series: Change of Fortune [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyCat/pseuds/JollyCat
Summary: After the battle against Zerstörer everything seemed right with Nick Burkhardt’s life - and everything seemed wrong with Sean Renard’s. If all that changes what will change between the two of them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowolfhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/gifts).



> I read a lot of stories where Sean got shot/stabbed/beaten up and generally had a miserable time (a sub-genre I very much enjoy and have indulged in myself). This started off as a light-hearted attempt to let Sean have a good time instead but the angst wouldn’t stay away! I do however apologise in advance for all that happens to Nick in this first chapter...

_Change yourself and fortune will change (Portuguese proverb)_

An iron grey sky has poured rain on Portland all day, the clouds so low that the tops of the highest buildings are lost in the mist. Sean Renard is sitting behind his desk. He's wearing a dark grey suit and a dark grey tie and the room is so shadowed that even the white of his shirt is subdued, defeated by the gloom. He's turned on a single lamp, just enough to see the unrelenting pile of paperwork in front of him. He's a tall man who spends too long sitting in this office and his back hurts, his forehead creasing as he reads.

There is the briefest of knocks on the door and Nick comes in - despite everything, despite his every effort, he still can’t think 'Burkhardt' in his head. Nick's wearing jeans, a sweater and the truculent expression he always has near Sean. There's a brief conversation - insolent on one side, tired on the other - and then Sean is left in the office alone again while Nick heads off to spend time with Adalind, with his son, with Sean's own daughter. No doubt his friends too. Sean sits, looking at nothing, a slight frown on his face. He hates this, hates what his life has become: this office, this work, this cold, friendless life. He takes a deep, deep breath. No-one else will change this, no-one will help or wave a magic wand.  
Sean Renard pushes the paperwork into a pile, shrugs on his coat and walks through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

And then he goes skiing.

********

Nick swings into the office with his usual perfunctory tap on the door frame to announce his presence, then comes to a sudden startled halt. The room is empty, no sign of Renard. He frowns. Okay, it's officially Renard’s day off but the last few months that has made no difference whatsoever: he's either been in this office or he's been at meetings, working parties or crime scenes, all duly recorded in his work diary (to which Nick has demanded access). So where is he? The desk is bare, no coat on the hook, he hasn't just stepped out for coffee or a bathroom break.  
Nick heads out of the office, spots Wu.  
“Hey, you seen Renard?”  
Wu strolls across, that smile on his face that says he knows something you don't.  
“The Captain has taken his days off for once and I believe he has gone skiing.”  
Nick gapes, “Skiing?”  
“Yes. Skiing.”  
Nick can't quite decide on the response to make. Really? He, Nick, is trying to track down a rogue Geier - a situation in which Renard could be useful - and the man has disappeared off skiing. He opens his mouth to say something but Wu gives him an odd look, gets there first,  
“Give the guy a break, Nick. He's barely been away from this place for months and even you have to agree he's done everything he could to get Portland back on track. And he definitely looks like he could use a few days off.”  
Nick is so surprised by Wu’s defence he says nothing, brain whirring through pithy replies without selecting one until Wu turns away.  
Skiing. When Nick could have used him. He doesn’t notice Wu's expression.

Nick is at Monroe's watching the local news. He wants Monroe's help but has arrived at some key point in the triplet's routine, so he’s slumped in the armchair, feeling vaguely sulky. Oh, he knows the babies are gorgeous, that he should be delighted at his friends' slightly stressed happiness, that of course Monroe has other priorities now - but he misses the old days. The news reporter is gushing about some local society event and Nick watches with half an eye, an edge of envy at these people who are laughing and drinking and dancing. His own plans involve a wet, cold, muddy forest and a possible report of a Varme Tyv. Nick sighs, slumps further and then suddenly sits bolt upright because there in the background is Renard. Nick watches the end of the item and then grabs the remote and rewinds. Renard. Renard with a glass of something in one hand and laughing - laughing out loud - at someone just out of shot. Nick has no idea why that one brief image should put him in an even worse mood, but it does. He ends up chasing the Varme Tyv by himself and finds himself thinking that if Renard had nothing better to do than go to parties, he could have been here, with Nick. And he’s not going to bother sitting round waiting for Monroe next time either.

Renard goes skiing again the next time he has a forty eight. Then hiking. He takes Diana on a jet boat ride on the Willamette River and she returns with photos of the two of them, Renard laughing once more and with his hair curling wildly from the spray. That weekend Nick kills two Wesen and has another fight with Adalind. Her exit line (the one before she stalks off to bed, leaving Nick in no doubt that he’s on the couch) is that she'd have had a better weekend with Sean than with him. Renard goes climbing. He takes Diana for a vacation. His picture appears in the local paper's society column, a variety of beautiful women on his arm. Meanwhile Nick deals with Wesen. Kills Wesen. Maybe doesn’t always try so hard not to these days.

The weeks pass, turn into months.

Hank meets a new woman, one who is beautiful, smart. Not Wesen. Hank says it’s serious, that they’re going to move in together, even makes shy mentions of children. Finally he tells Nick he’s applied for a new job and that he’s going for a promotion. It will be okay, he says, they'll keep in touch and cops don’t usually stay partners for ever. And Nick hears the unsaid words: if Hank's going to have kids he wants to be a good cop, not one who spends so much time covering stuff up, not one sidelined in Portland’s most successful precinct because his partner hates their boss. Renard raises an eyebrow when Hank takes the application in but signs it off before heading out to an awards evening.

Monroe and Rosalee invite Nick round, the first time he’s seen them in two weeks. The evening ends badly and he doesn’t see them again for another two weeks. Meanwhile Renard drives Diana to play with the triplets when Adalind unexpectedly can't take her and ends up staying for dinner.

Renard collects Diana to take her to a concert and as soon as the door closes behind them, Adalind tells Nick she’s moving out.

One week later Nick kills a boy. He’s Wesen, a fuchsbau, he tried to attack Nick. He’s killed enough Wesen, hardly thinks about it at first. He thinks about it more when detectives from South Precinct arrive to arrest him.

**********

Nick knows the routine for processing - and he’s even been on the receiving end of it once before - but this is different. This is cops, not Wesen as far as he's aware, cops who have arrested one of their own for killing a seventeen year old boy, apparently in cold blood. Detectives he knows and has worked alongside who now won’t meet his eye, who have no ounce of sympathy in their voices. He’s fingerprinted, photographed, interviewed. He says very little. He’s offered a phone call and he has the phone in his hand, fingers poised on the buttons, when he realises there is no one to call. Adalind - who after all is a lawyer - would be the obvious choice, but after last week's bitter words and recriminations that doesn’t seem possible. His fingers hover over Hank's number, then Monroe’s. Hank wanted to get away from him, tired of being outside the law, tired of covering up. Monroe and Rosalie are scared of him, scared of the danger and violence he brings close to their children’s lives; he can’t call them either. Trubel? He can’t even remember the last time he saw her and has no idea where she is. The same with Eve. There’s one other number, one he almost calls but...no, he can’t.

Nick lies on the bed in a cell for a while, staring at the ceiling. He’s taken for his arraignment hearing where he sits next to a public defender he’s never seen before and still says virtually nothing: his name, his address and - with some prompting from the baby-faced lawyer - 'not guilty'. Bail is set ridiculously high, the lawyer's pleas about previously good character falling on very deaf ears and then he goes back to his cell and stares at the ceiling some more. He'd said not guilty but he is, he thinks. Two years ago, maybe even a year ago he wouldn’t have killed that fuchsbau, even though the boy had attacked him. Now he’d just done what all his ancestors would have done and killed a Wesen without thinking twice. Nick lies on the cot, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above but not seeing it. Cops don’t do well in prison; he can’t imagine someone who’s a cop and a Grimm would last long.

Nick has no idea how much time has passed when he hears footsteps and then the cell door opening. He looks around without much interest, expecting maybe some food he doesn’t want or the lawyer back again. Instead there's a young officer he doesn’t recognise,  
"You've been bailed. Get a move on."

Nick follows, gets back his belt and his watch and his money, shoves his feet back into his boots. He follows a different uniform out to the front desk,  
"Sign here."  
Nick reaches for the pen, then realises the guy isn’t talking to him at all. He looks round.

Renard is there, leaning against the wall. Even though he's every bit as much a police officer as the sergeant behind the desk he looks as though he’s walked in from another world. He’s wearing a tuxedo, one that fits him so well it never came off any peg. He's taken off his tie and the top button of his pristine white shirt is unbuttoned; his skin looks golden even in the precinct striplights. Nick stares for a second, both in surprise that Renard’s there at all and at the sight of him. Renard glances at him without expression, walks across and reaches for the pen, signs his name.  
“You've posted my bail?”  
“Yes.”  
Nick can’t quite believe it - he has no idea just how wealthy Renard is (other than being a lot better off than a police captain should be), but even so that has to have made a sizeable dent. And why the hell would he do it? Renard looks like he’s going to say more but instead he turns and heads for the doors, Nick trailing after him like a rather bedraggled puppy, unsure if he’s heading to a cosy basket or a cold kennel.

Sitting in Renard's SUV is odd: Nick can’t even remember the last time they were in the same space without bitter words (mostly his own) or, at best, a coldly painful formality. Now he sits in the warm, dark vehicle, aware of the scent of Renard's cologne and uncomfortably certain that he doesn’t smell nearly so good himself. He still feels numb - partly because of all that has happened, partly because it turns out it’s quarter after one in the morning - and that’s perhaps why he doesn’t realise that they’re not heading towards his apartment, that they’re actually arriving at Renard's house.  
“Why are we here? I don’t need..."  
“Leave it for now, Nick, we can talk about it tomorrow."  
“No. What’s going on?”  
Renard sighs,  
“The judge really didn’t want to let you out. As well as setting bail he set...conditions.”  
“Conditions?”  
“You’re out on condition you stay with me, on my recognisance,”  
Nick stares at him,  
“Your what?”  
“It means I have taken responsibility for you meeting the bail conditions - like staying in my house overnight.”  
“And what happens if I don’t? If I just get out and go?”  
“You already know the answer to that, Nick. I lose my bail money and when they find you, they throw you in jail - and you don’t get out again. But the choice is yours of course.”

Nick could leave, even thinks of it for a fraction of a second. But then he follows Renard up the path and into the house.

Renard offers him something to eat but Nick isn’t hungry. He trudges after Renard once more, this time to the guest bedroom. The bed is made up, towels and soap in the bathroom. Did Renard do this for his arrival, Nick wonders, or is he just always well prepared? Either option riles him, he can feel the urge to snarl, to find the harsh words he’s used so often against the other man. Somehow though the impersonal politeness in Renard’s tone gives him nothing to hit against, nothing to fight. Renard leaves and he slumps on the bed: there seems nothing to do to try and get some sleep. He reaches for his boots, take those off at least.

Nick has had a stressful day - but then he’s had a stressful life too. He’s fought countless Wesen, Black Claw, Wesenrein, Zerstörer and an entire Royal family, it seems ridiculous that a bootlace can defeat him. He’d put his boots on so hurriedly, hopping on one foot under the dismissive stare of the custody sergeant, that the laces are tangled beyond the abilities of his clumsy fingers and it is all suddenly too much. He wants to yell, scream, hit someone or something for the surge of cleansing adrenaline. He starts trying to tug the boot straight off, despite the impossibility of it. And suddenly what he wants most is to cry.  
“Here let me.”  
Nick hadn’t even heard Renard return, he’s standing at the door holding a small pile of clothes - a t-shirt, sleep pants. He puts the clothes on the bed next to Nick and then goes down on to one knee in front of him. His long, clever fingers work at the knot until the laces free, then he pulls the boot away. He unties the other one, eases it from Nick’s foot and places it neatly next to the first.  
“There.”  
He stands and turns to go. Nick has often said he hates this man, would no more choose to spend time with him than he would a raging siegbarste, but in the face of this unexpected, undemanding kindness, the angry words are lost again.  
“Why are you doing this? Bailing me out, all this? Why do you care?”  
There is a moment where there is something in Renard’s expression, something Nick has seen a time or two before but never had a name for. Then his face tightens,  
“Officially I am still your commanding officer. And Diana knew something had happened, she was upset.”  
He turns and leaves the room. Nick lies on the bed and stares at a different ceiling until much, much later, he finally falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sean is sitting at his kitchen table, laptop open, running though lists of contacts, favors, debts owed. So far there is no sound from upstairs but he’s acutely aware that he’s not alone in the house. Sean has deliberately risen at his usual time, showered, shaved, drunk coffee, all as usual, and yet through all these regular morning activities the knowledge of Nick’s presence has been there. He’s like an addict, an alcoholic, he thinks. One who has been sober for months and then is given a bottle of vodka, keeps it to prove his self-control but can’t let it out of his thoughts even so. Sean glances at his watch and then reaches for his cell and calls the precinct to let them know he’ll be working from home today. As he’s making the call he hears movement upstairs, water running. Nick. In his home. He’s a Zauberbiest, he thinks, he should be good at self-control. He’s going to have to be.

*******

Nick wakes up and there is a minute where he’s just warm and comfortable, then the realisation he’s not in his own bed seeps in, and with it the remembrance of why he’s here. He sits up, looks around the room. All he really wants to do is go back to sleep but, whatever his faults, Nick has always been a man to take action. He gets up and heads for the shower.

It seems very odd to head downstairs, to find Renard sitting in the kitchen, casual in jeans and a t-shirt. There’s a smell of good coffee, sunlight is slanting into the room, for a second it almost seems kind of well, nice. Renard directs Nick towards a mug and the coffee pot and then nudges out a chair with his foot,  
“Sit down. We need to talk.”

Renard pushes his laptop to one side, regards Nick thoughtfully for a moment.  
“The case against you is strong - not unsurprising, given in fact you actually are guilty - and you have some decisions to make. I am quite prepared to help you, what form that help takes is up to you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I can help you as your Captain, within the law. Get you a good lawyer, keep you out of jail in the meantime, try to keep the press coverage positive. You’ll go down for it but you can probably plea bargain the charge down. You’ll do a few years, if you can survive them.”  
Nick swallows, throat dry despite the coffee.  
“What’s the other option?”  
“I can help you like this.”  
Renard woges so suddenly that despite himself Nick starts back.  
“I can make this charge go away. I have favors I can call in, pressure I can use. It will involve lies and threats at best, more deaths at worst and it may take some time. But if you want me to do that, you have to choose it. I have killed for you in the past and I will do it again if needed - but not while you stand by and imagine yourself innocent.”  
Nick feels the anger burn up, how dare he, fuck Renard and his help. He’s on his feet and ready to take a swing but Renard just looks up at him and then shakes his face back to humanity,  
“Sit down, Nick. And think about it.”  
Nick does, suddenly feeling stupid at facing off against the only person who’s helped him. particularly wearing that person’s over-long sleep pants.  
“How long do I have to think?”  
“A couple of days. Although we get you the good lawyer straight away.”  
They look at each other for a long moment and then Renard asks,  
“ Now, how do you like your eggs?”

 

The next two days pass...oddly. Nick collects clothes and stuff from his empty apartment but otherwise barely leaves Renard’s house. Renard continues to be considerate, supportive even, while Nick swings from numbness to anger to anxiety to despair. Renard meets them all with a detached calm. And Nick can’t make his mind up what to do.

Nick is sitting half watching some inane game show when the doorbell rings. He hears Renard opening it and then familiar voices: Diana shouting ‘daddy’ and a low murmur that he can tell is Adalind, even though he can’t hear the words. It must be Renard’s weekend to have his daughter he realises with a sharp stab of pain. The door shuts and he tries to focus on the show, not on the sound of Adalind’s car driving away.  
Renard comes into the room and there’s something in the sound of his footsteps that makes Nick turn. He’s holding Kelly, walks across and puts him straight onto Nick’s knee. Nick looks at him stunned,  
“How long can he stay for?”  
He expects Renard to say an hour or maybe even just a few minutes, instead he says,  
“Both our children are staying for the weekend.”

It’s late, the children long since asleep, when Nick deliberately goes to find Renard. He’s sitting on the couch, glass of wine at his elbow, book open; a man who has spent the afternoon and evening with his daughter and her half-brother, cooked a meal that even a toddler enjoyed, appeared unconcerned about sticky hands and an accidental mess on the floor, even found toys. In this moment he looks like a good man, a family man. But that’s not the man Nick needs.  
“I can’t go to jail and leave Kelly. I don’t want him to grow up without a father, I don’t want to miss seeing him grow up. Help me. In any way you can.”  
Renard nods,  
“Very well.”

Sunday night Nick is lying on the bed, still fully clothed. Having Kelly has made life seem normal, even good, but now he’s gone back to Adalind and Nick is back staring at the ceiling of Renard’s guest bedroom. There is a knock on the door and the man himself appears. Nick turns his head to look, although it seems an effort. Renard has spent the day in jeans and a casual shirt but now, weirdly, he’s wearing black pants and a black sweater. Odd sleepwear, thinks Nick.  
“A gang of coyotls has made Seattle too hot for them and they’re here in Portland. They’ve done enough damage, I think they need convincing to move on.”  
Nick doesn’t get what he means at first and when the penny drops he’s still puzzled,  
“You mean...me, that I should go and deal with them. Really?”  
Renard shrugs,  
“You’re suspended from the Portland Police Bureau, not from being a Grimm. And I don’t like coyotls.”  
The dark clothes suddenly make sense,  
“You’re coming with me?”  
Now Renard does smile,  
“I am responsible for you, Nick. I can’t do that very well if you’re chasing coyotls and I’m in bed, can I?”

It almost feels like fun. Oh hell, it is fun. Coyotls are generally stupid and nasty and running them out of town is more or less a civic duty. This lot have already robbed and vandalised and threatened old ladies and when they turn and fight Nick can’t help but be pleased. He also remembers just how well he and Renard fight together, that Renard has both the power and the training to match Nick. And when, just for a second, the red mist appears, when he has his hands around a coyotl’s neck and could just _squeeze_ , it’s Renard’s quiet ‘Nick’ and a fleeting touch of a warm hand that brings him back to himself. The coyotls run (and look they won’t stop running until they reach Idaho), battered, bruised but alive. Renard shakes away his woge and he and Nick watch them go, a job well done.

In the SUV on the way home a thought crosses Nick’s mind.  
“Why aren’t I tagged. It would be standard procedure.”  
“You will be.”  
Oh, no more nights like this then, him and Renard working together.  
“It probably won’t be until Tuesday or Wednesday. The paperwork has been mis-filed and two different teams each think the other has done it.”  
“How does that help? I’ll still be tagged.”  
Renard’s smile is as wolfish as Monroe’s ever gets,  
“It gives me time to source a...customised...tag. One that will give us more freedom than you might expect.”

The next two weeks pass. Nick’s tag is fitted, a procedure that leaves him feeling the smallest and most humiliated he’s ever felt. After that Renard shows him how to find the tiny catch that will release the tag without setting off the alert and they go together to break up a Löwen-run human trafficking ring, one that has been evading more regular justice for months. Renard has witnesses against Nick threatened, bribes and blackmails officials to lose evidence - and then comes home and cooks beef bourgignon and puts on a favorite movie. Nick sleeps a lot in between times. One evening Nick gets in the SUV, not knowing where they’re headed, and Renard drives to Monroe’s house. Rosalee hits him hard on the arm (‘that’s for killing a fuchsbau’) and then hugs him equally hard. Monroe bustles around finding him beer, then another different beer in case he doesn’t like the first, then a snack to keep him going until dinner. Renard stays and Monroe and Rosalee call him Sean.

When Adalind next brings Diana and Kelly for the weekend it’s Nick who opens the door. Diana runs past him hand in hand with Kelly, the little boy valiantly trying to keep up on shorter legs. Nick is left facing Adalind. She studies him thoughtfully,  
“You look much better.”  
Nick is puzzled at first by the remark - she hasn’t seen him since before he was arrested, did he really look that bad before? He must have said it out loud because Adalind answers,  
“Nick, you looked terrible. It’s good to see you looking more yourself again, even if I wasn’t the one who could help. I’m sorry.”  
He’s not quite sure what she’s apologising for, when he thinks back he’s surprised she didn’t walk out months ago. In a way it feels like that’s how long it’s been. He watches her as she walks back down the path, then turns back into the house.

Seeing Adalind, remembering what went wrong between them - and what went right - sets Nick thinking. He hated Adalind, hated her totally and absolutely. And then he loved her, still does in a way. Just not...that way. ‘I wasn’t the one who could help’, she’d said. Funny that the one who could was Renard.

Nick has never got an answer to ‘why do you care?’, not one he thinks is true anyway. As he’s slowly emerged from his misery, that question comes back to him. Why is Renard doing this? Not just working to get Nick off a murder charge (as though that wasn’t enough) but eating meals with him, talking with him? Why is it Renard who makes sure he’s okay after long and depressing meetings with his pretrial officer. How come it’s Renard that asked Hank over and then retired to the kitchen while Nick and Hank got so drunk together that any hard feelings had to be put behind them? Why is it Renard who makes sure he sees his son? Why does he care? And why is it starting to matter so much to Nick?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!

It's Monroe who plants the seed.

Nick has always been a busy man - studied hard at school and college, worked long hours when he joined the police - and being mostly home during the day is quite strange. Except no, it’s not home of course, it’s Renard’s house. Nick is sorting laundry when the doorbell rings and Monroe laughs when he sees what Nick was doing.  
“Man, how times have changed. I’ve spent the morning doing diaper changes and feeds and you’re sorting socks.”  
Nick grins,  
“We did all go and chase off that siegbarste the other night though.”  
Monroe looks at him a little curiously and Nick realises two things: that the ‘all’ in that sentence included Renard and that the t-shirt he’s holding doesn’t belong to him. He pushes the laundry basket away and turns to the coffee pot instead.  
“So, how is it going, staying with Sean?  
“It’s uh, okay. Not like I have a lot of choice anyway.”  
“No, guess not. I didn’t think it was a good idea, figured you two would be either at each other’s throats or having so much sex neither of you could walk straight by now. But hey, what do I know?”

What? Why would Monroe even think that? Nick shakes a sudden, startling image of him and Renard firmly away and focuses on pouring coffee, unable to find the witty response Monroe must surely have been expecting. Monroe takes the mug Nick offers without any more comment. They talk for a while about other things - the trip Monroe took to Seattle to fix a 1948 Hamilton Norton watch, the Timbers’ chances in the next game - but Nick can feel Monroe's comment buzzing at the back of his brain.

Once the idea has been planted Nick can’t forget it. Suddenly he finds himself watching Renard, seeing Renard in a way he hasn’t before. The size of his hands, the long elegant fingers curled around a coffee mug. The way his hair curls when it’s damp from the shower. The vee of skin when he takes off his tie and loosens his collar, the curve of collarbone just visible. Mostly Nick laughs at himself, because of course this must just be some weird response to the situation, but sometimes he gives in and lets himself imagine.

Renard himself makes it more than just Nick's imagination.

Sean is pleased with the progress he’s making: the evidence against Nick is melting away in the heat of an effective mix of threats and bribes. One witness however is still holding out, driven not by any outrage at the death of the young fuchsbau but rather a more longstanding hatred of Grimms in general, Nick in particular. Sean takes Nick with him to track down a reinigen who may just have useful information on this particular witness, information which might convince him to change his mind. They’re closing in on the reinigen, moving swiftly along the dark Portland streets, when a man suddenly steps out and intercepts their target. Sean swears softly and Nick asks,  
“Who is he?”  
“Someone I’d rather didn’t see me here. Now be quiet.”  
He pulls them both into a doorway and out of view.  
The trouble is the doorway is shallower than Sean had anticipated and Nick has to stand close to stay in the shadows. Actually they are very close, so close that Sean can feel the warmth of Nick’s body. For once he lets himself enjoy it - the press of Nick’s thigh against his, the clean smell of shampoo from his hair...  
Nick shifts against him,  
“The guy’s leaving. Let’s go.”  
Sean follows him, ready to threaten, to do violence. But his chief thought is of that moment before Nick moved out of the doorway. And hoping to hell that in that brief press of bodies, Nick didn’t notice the all too hard evidence of Sean’s arousal.

 

Nick lies in bed and finds it hard to sleep. He’s too hot, he tells himself. Or maybe just too much adrenaline, chasing that reinigen. They’re getting so close now to getting the case dropped against him, no wonder he’s wide awake. And that would be great, he’ll be free to get back to his normal life, get back to his own apartment. He shifts in bed again and stops pretending. The reason he can’t sleep is because he finally thinks he’s worked it out, he knows why Renard is helping him. People forget - even those who know him best - just how good his Grimm hearing is. Standing in that doorway with Renard, nothing to do but listen, he’d heard Renard’s breathing quicken, heard the thud of his heartbeat and he knew that Renard was turned on even before he deliberately pushed back against him. It all makes sense, even those weeks and months when it seemed Renard hated him (because if there’s one thing Nick’s time with Adalind taught him, it’s that love and hate can be two sides of a very thin coin). Renard wants him, that’s why he’s helping Nick. And now Nick wants him right back.

There are moments in the next days when Nick nearly acts: when their hands touch when Renard passes him a beer, when they chase a klaustreich and both end up soaked and shivering, when he makes Renard laugh with some stupid comment. But it’s never the right moment until the evening Renard tells him the charges against him are being dropped, that tomorrow or the next day he will be able to go back to his own apartment, his own life.

Renard is at the counter opening a bottle of wine, a beer for Nick already open next to him. “There’ll still be a hearing to overturn your suspension at work but that should be a formality now that all the charges have been dropped without prejudice. You might want to think about what you do after -“  
Nick reaches past him for the beer, his arm deliberately brushing across Renard and the other man pauses, turns slightly, looks at him. Instead of taking the bottle Nick turns too, leans up and finds Renard’s mouth with his.

For one long, drawn-out second it’s wonderful. Nick has never kissed a man before, not really, not and meant it, but it feels right. Renard's lips are soft and Nick presses against him, feels Renard's huff of surprise. Nick reaches up, one hand on Renard's chest, and both Renard's big, beautiful hands move to Nick's shoulders.

Nick is suddenly pushed firmly away to arm's length.

“What are you doing, Nick?”

Renard doesn’t look angry, just...puzzled. This will be fine. The words babble out,

“I know. I mean, uh, I realised why you’ve helped me. That you, well that you wanted me. Uh, physically. And I realised that I wanted it too. And so...  
“Are you saying that you think I helped you because I wanted to sleep with you? And that now as a thank you, you think it might be a nice idea?”  
The words are calm but Nick looks at Renard's face. His expression is closed and although he’s standing only two feet away Nick feels the distance - a distance he hasn’t felt since Conrad Bonaparte was dead at their feet between them.  
“My...personal feelings...towards you have had nothing to do with this. I’ve helped you because your friends - always still your friends, no matter how much you use them or push them away - asked me to. That’s it. Now, I’d suggest you leave, spend the evening with Monroe, and then you will be able to collect the rest of your belongings to tomorrow or the day after."

Renard turns, walks out of the kitchen, leaving the wine and the beer bottle standing on the counter. Nick feels a flare of anger, okay then, fuck Renard. He grabs his jacket and slams out of the door.

It’s probably the tag that saves Nick. Three feet from the house be remembers it and stops abruptly, half turning. He sees the movement, the figure - another fuchsbau? - and takes the bullet in his side and not his chest. The impact sends him to the floor and even as his head hits the floor he tries to shout.

It’s kind of odd really that this is the first time he says ‘Sean’.

 

*******

Nick wakes up with the floating feel of good painkillers and the uncomfortable certainty that opening his eyes or trying to move is going to ruin the effect. His mouth is dry and his throat is sore and someone close by is making a groaning noise. Then a hand touches his shoulder and cool water is at his lips. The groaning noise is him, he realises, the comforting hand is Sean's. Nick wonders if he can just pretend to still be asleep.  
“Nick?”  
Nick screws up his courage and opens his eyes.

He’s lying in a hospital bed. The lights are dim and it feels late. Sean is leaning over him, still in the same shirt as when he walked out of the kitchen, however many hours ago that was. The sleeve of Sean’s shirt is rolled up though and there are smears of blood on it. On his chest, too. Nick's own blood presumably. With an effort Nick raises his eyes.  
“I screwed up, I’m sorry.”  
“You couldn’t have expected to be shot.”  
“That wasn’t what I meant.”  
“Ah.”  
Sean smiles slightly. That closed, distant look has gone from his face and his hand is still warm on Nick’s shoulder.  
“Get some rest and we’ll talk about that tomorrow. You’ll be fine by the way - the bullet grazed your ribs but other than that it’s soft tissue damage.”  
Nick drifts back to sleep, warm in the knowledge that Sean is there. This time it’s going to be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick's first priority the next morning is gettting out of hospital before his Grimm-fast healing raises eyebrows. It takes some arguing from both of them but eventually he’s released - for the second time - into Sean's care. His next priority is the conversation with Sean.

The drive home is not the best time to talk. Even though Sean is driving as smoothly as he can, Nick feels every bump in the road in his head and in his ribs. It turns out that the house isn't the best place to talk either, seeing as it's full of friends and children. Nick hugs Kelly and then sits carefully in his chair and lets it all flow past him. One bit he does listen to is the conversation between Sean and Monroe and what happened with the fuchsbau who shot him: Sean sat with Nick through the whole night and it was Monroe who tracked down the fuchsbau and scared him off. He wanted revenge, Monroe says, but Monroe went ‘full wolf’ and he won’t be coming back to Portland any time soon. Nick hopes that’s true but he’s glad they didn’t arrest the guy; in the circumstances that would have been kind of unfair. Even once the house has emptied it's not the best time to talk because Nick has to be helped to bed by Sean, head pounding and ribs aching, where he falls fast asleep.

When Nick wakes up properly it’s late afternoon. He heads downstairs and finds Sean in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Nick sits at the table and watches the neat precision of Sean's movements. Sean keeps his eyes fixed on what he’s doing,  
“Why did you kiss me last night?”  
Nick takes a moment to think through his answer,  
“Because I wanted to. And I thought you wanted me to.”

Sean sighs,  
“I am not ... used to talking about my feelings. I certainly never expected to talk about them with you.”  
Nick can tell Sean is uncomfortable - he’s using the knife with a level of accuracy normally only required of a brain surgeon and they’re having this conversation eight feet apart and looking in different directions - but he can also tell that Sean wants to talk, that some barrier has finally come down between them.  
“I said I helped you because your friends asked me to. They did, but that wasn’t the whole truth. I didn’t do it because I wanted you or was in love with you either - I did it to prove I wasn’t.“

Oh, that wasn’t what Nick was expecting.

“Six, seven years ago I thought I had my life sorted. I had money, power, respect where I felt it was due - all the things I wanted. I had a security I never thought I’d have. And then you came along - and you were ... beautiful. Unique. And a Grimm. And after that it seemed like everything just got thrown in the air. It didn’t seem to matter if I was your friend or your enemy, it was as though everything I did related to you, all my actions and reactions, somehow you were behind them all. Everything that happened with Juliette, with Adalind even. With Black Claw. I made some choices I regret, some I don’t, but you were a part of all of those choices. I have never _noticed_ anyone as much as I have you. And after all that, all those years, the place I ended up was not a good one. I felt as powerless as I did when I was a child and as trapped as ever I did when I was at Kronenburg. I thought of just leaving, running away but I am no longer a child and I have my own child who needs me. So I decided to turn it round. I chose to do something different, tried to enjoy myself. To do things that didn’t involve you. And it worked. I’ve been happier. I think I’ve been a good father, even possibly been a good man, more or less. And then all this happened and I thought this was my chance to prove that you no longer...affected me.”

Nick doesn’t know what to say and while he’s thinking Sean selects another hapless carrot and continues slicing,  
“And then last night you kissed me. And part of me would very much like to kiss you back - and one hell of a lot more. But a much bigger part of me thinks that is a very bad idea, that we haven’t exactly been good for each other in the past. And you may not be thinking straight or just be carried away by this situation - you do have something of a track record for falling for someone you’ve been forced to live with - and then you’ll come to your senses and probably hate me all over again. And I don’t want that.”

Nick has been thinking even as Sean has been talking. Sean is right, he has fallen into relationships without really meaning to in the past - Adalind definitely, even Juliette to an extent. So he needs to prove himself this time, show Sean that this really would work.

“So, what did you do? You know, the different thing to turn your life around?”  
For the first time Sean glances at him, clearly surprised by the question.  
“I went skiing.”  
Nick remembers that - remembers he was pissed at Sean for daring to go off doing something enjoyable when he should have been in his office feeling miserable.  
“Why skiing? Could you already ski?”  
The corner of Sean’s mouth lifts,  
“Where did I live as a child, Nick?”  
“Uh, Austria.”  
“And what do you think is the national sport of Austria?”  
Well, all Nick really knows about Austria is that they have a surprising Royal family and oh, lots of mountains and snow,  
“Ah, skiing?”  
“Exactly. It was a required part of my education but it was also one of the few things I really enjoyed, not least because Eric hated it. Nick, Why are you asking me about skiing?”  
“Because I understand what you’re saying and I sure as hell don’t want to be your enemy. So - let’s try something else first. Let’s try being friends. And you could maybe teach me to ski.”

Courtship. An old-fashioned word but the one Nick thinks is the right one. Because this is where his courtship of Sean Renard starts.

They go skiing - and snowboarding. They go hiking. They take Diana and Kelly to the zoo and the museum and a weekend by the ocean. They go to concerts - and though their tastes are quite different, each finds something they like in the other’s choices. They eat together a lot - eat out, eat at Sean’s, eat with Monroe and Rosalee. Nick buys Sean wine he thinks he will like, a tie that matches the colour of his eyes (and notices that Sean wears it more than any other). He brings Sean coffee when he’s been shut in his office too long and listens when he needs to vent. They fight Wesen together, keep the peace together. When Sean gets hit by venom from some weird spitting frog Wesen and spends thirty six hours throwing up (and worse), it’s Nick who looks after him. When Nick falls face down in mud pursuing a Lontramulher, it’s Sean who pulls him out - and then laughs so much that it ends up in a full-blown mud fight. On the anniversary of Zerstörer’s defeat they get absolutely, astoundingly drunk together and then wince through their hangovers together. Nick deliberately touches - a hand on Sean’s arm, a brush of fingers - and notices when Sean starts to do the same. Half the precinct think they’re already dating and Nick’s new partner, a young and enthusiastic Jagerbär even asks, but Nick bides his time, waiting for the right moment. Because there is no doubt now that they are friends - and no doubt that Nick still wants more.

The moment when it comes is not a moment of drama, not a crisis or the ending of the world. Instead it’s an evening after work, a bottle of beer already opened on the counter, Sean opening a bottle of wine. Nick leans past him to get his beer and brushes against him and the moment is one of shared realisation. Nick turns, Sean turns and at last, at long last, they are kissing each other. And then a whole lot more.

****

An iron grey sky has poured rain on Portland all day, the clouds so low that the tops of the highest buildings are lost in the mist (because even true love can’t make it stop raining in Portland). Sean Renard is sitting behind his desk. He's wearing a dark grey suit and the room is so shadowed that even the white of his shirt is subdued, defeated by the gloom. His tie is a gleam of colour though - a green one that matches his eyes and of which he’s particularly fond. He's turned on a single lamp, just enough to see the pile of paperwork in front of him. He's a tall man who still sometimes spends too long sitting in this office and his back hurts, his forehead creased as he reads.

There is the briefest of knocks on the door and Nick comes in. He grins and flicks on the lights,  
“You saving money on the department’s utilities bill again?”  
“Mm, I just hadn’t gotten round to it.”  
Nick comes round behind the desk, drops a kiss on to Sean’s hair and then, recognising the signs, starts to knead the muscles of his shoulders  
“You nearly done?”  
“I’m as done as I’m going to be.”  
Sean leans back into Nick’s hands, tilts his head for another kiss. Nick smiles down at him,  
“Come on then, let’s go home.”

 

**Epilogue - 19 years later**

‘...for that reason the world was changed. Some will say it was just a myth, legend or a fairytale but I know it was true because my father told me so.’  
“Kelly, come on!”  
Diana arrives in the trailer with her usual impatience. Kelly takes a last second to look at the lines he's written. Is that a good ending? The day he realised just how old some of the writing in the Grimm books was, was the day Kelly Burkhardt realised everything he writes here is written for posterity. It’s an unnerving thought, one that made him pay a little more attention in English class, that’s for sure. Maybe one more sentence?  
“I’m almost done.”  
“Hurry up.”  
“Diana!”  
“Let’s go.”

Sometimes Kelly thinks his sister has just too much energy, in a lot of different ways. He’s been hearing variations on ‘hurry up’ and ‘let’s go” most of his life. He loves her though - and she is a mighty useful ally in a fight.  
“Okay, I’m coming.”  
“Mom and dad are waiting, we got Wesen to kill. The triplets are coming too.”  
Kelly signs his name in the book, still not quite sure if he’s finished in the right place.  
“Yeah. What’s taking you so long?"

Kelly steps out of the trailer into the crisp fall air. Oregon looks good in the sunshine and he doubts they’re really going to kill anyone today, not least because the triplets will be with them and Monroe says he's damned if his kids are going to be hardened killers before they can legally drink a beer. Diana is still in the trailer, even though she was the one with a rush on, but she finally emerges,tossing back her long blonde hair and heads for her car. She drives like she does most things - fast, terrifying, and scarily well. Kelly buckles his seat belt and takes a firm hold of the grip on the door.  
“So, which dad?”  
“What?”  
“You said ‘mom and dad’?  
Diana grins,  
“Both of them, of course. When did they ever do stuff separately if they can do it together? You’d think after this many years together they’d have calmed down.”  
She turns and stares hard at him, even though they’re doing 65 down a dirt-track forest road,  
“And Kelly, if you and Greta ever make me endure as many PDAs as our dads do, I warn you, I’m going solo.”  
Kelly grins, he knows Diana doesn’t mean it. He settles back in his seat, ready to save the world (or whatever is needed) alongside his sister, his mom, his girlfriend and her two brothers - and of course, both his dads. How does he get all that in the Grimm books? Maybe it will need a few more sentences after all


End file.
